Scarlet Women

Breathing heavily, Charlie gave her one last sneering glance, and went.

And then, to Annie’s horror, Redmond came inside and shut the door behind him.

‘Mrs Carter,’ he said softly into the semi-darkness. ‘What a talent you have for poking your nose in where it’s not wanted. And you know—it’s really got to stop.’

Annie gulped. Seriously shaken from her tussle with Charlie, nevertheless she could clearly see that there was much greater danger here. Redmond was less predictable than his henchman, and ten times more deadly.

‘I’ll stop when you stop,’ she said with bravado. She was panting, close to exhaustion.

He gave a low laugh at that. She saw him moving closer and braced herself for whatever was coming. But he didn’t lash out. Instead, very, very gently, he reached out and stroked her face. She flinched.

‘Such a pity,’ he said.

And she knew what he meant then. She knew she was going to die here.

‘You’d be wasted on Charlie,’ he said in that soft, soothing Irish brogue. ‘He’s got no refinement, no imagination. Unlike me.’

He came in even closer. Now, straining back against the wall of the shed, she could feel his breath on her face. She’d come within a whisker of violence from Redmond before, but now there was no one here to restrain him. No witnesses. Nothing.

Oh God help me, she thought.

‘Try and relax, Mrs Carter,’ he said in that same low, charming voice. ‘Relax and you’ll begin to enjoy it.’

And suddenly there was something over her nose and her mouth. She choked, struggling for air. She couldn’t breathe, she was drowning in the stink of rubber; it was nauseating, she couldn’t breathe.

She raised her hands and clawed at his, holding the thing over her face. She could feel the blood pounding in her head, could feel consciousness starting to waver.

This is what he did to Mira, she thought in a crazed whirl of terror. This is what excites him.

She struggled, kicked out, but he was stronger than Charlie, stronger than she would ever have believed; she couldn’t fight him. She felt blackness starting to envelop her. He was killing her. He’d threatened it, and now he was carrying out his threat. She could dimly see his face, handsome, deadly, focused entirely on her. He was smiling.

‘Redmond,’ said a female voice. Maybe she imagined it, she could hardly stand now, she was sinking, falling…

But there was light flaring into the darkness now. She could see light.

‘Redmond!’ The voice was sharper. ‘Come on. Stop. Enough of your games.’

Suddenly, her face was free. Annie whooped in a huge gasp of precious air. Her head was spinning, and for a minute she could see nothing. But then her vision cleared and she saw Orla standing there at the door. Redmond had stepped away. He was holding a small square of rubber in one hand.

‘Bastard,’ she choked out.

Orla stood there, very erect, very cool, staring at the pair of them. Charlie, sneering, appeared at her shoulder. Redmond might have spoiled his fun, but he’d made damned sure that Orla had ruined his, too.

‘Come on,’ said Orla. ‘Bring her over to the office.’

Much to Annie’s surprise and relief, Redmond didn’t object. Charlie grabbed her arm, and with Redmond walking ahead with Orla, he bundled her over and inside the static.

Chapter 48

Once inside the static, away from any possible prying eyes, Redmond and Orla went to the desk and stood there, staring at her. Annie was swaying on her feet like a drunk. She clutched at the wall, held herself steady. Charlie was right by her, grinning.

Vipers, just as Max had always told her.

Orla was in a neat black suit, beautifully cut, perfectly fitted. She leaned back against the desk and watched Annie like she was an insect impaled on a pin. Redmond was standing there, one arm casually resting on the filing cabinet beside the desk, his face impassive—as if he hadn’t just tried to smother her at all. As if everything was normal. Which, to him, it probably was.

Annie knew she was going down. But she wasn’t going down without a fight, and she wasn’t going down before she had let this sick pair know precisely what she thought of them.

Her thoughts went briefly to Tony. They’d dragged her out of the Jag and into the compound, but she didn’t know what they’d done with him. He might be just unconscious, he might be tied up, fuck it all, he might be dead. That blow to the head could have damaged his brain, caused haemorrhaging. She didn’t know. And right this instant, she couldn’t even give it much thought.

She had to try and stay alive for as long as she could. She didn’t hold out much hope in that direction. Tony might recover and come to her rescue. Or he might not. Either way, she was going to say her piece.

She was very aware of Charlie standing close by, leaning against the closed door, listening in. Anticipating another chance to damage her. She knew he could hardly wait.

‘I know all about what happened with you and Mira,’ said Annie, looking at Redmond. Her mouth was dry. She had to swallow several times to get the words out.

Redmond was quiet for a beat. Then he said: ‘I doubt that.’

‘Oh but I do. She told me, you sadistic bastard.’

‘Sticks and stones, Mrs Carter.’

‘If I had a stick I’d beat you to fucking death with it. Put you out of your misery like a dog, you bastard.’

‘Ah, but you haven’t, have you? No sticks, no guns, not even that strange little flick-out Eastern thing you carry around with you. Nothing. You’re out of your depth, Mrs Carter.’

Orla was staring at Annie.

‘What, cat got your tongue, Orla?’ Annie demanded shakily. ‘Nothing to say?’

She couldn’t let them see how terrified she was, even though she felt literally sick with fear.

Orla shook her head. ‘How’s the club going?’ she asked with a sneering smile. ‘No problems, I hope? No one trying to sabotage all your good efforts? No one been cutting pipes in the cellar or anything like that?’

Well, that explained that. ‘You bitch,’ said Annie, consumed with cold fury.

‘And I thought we were such good friends too! Why couldn’t you just carry on playing businesswoman of the year—that’s what you’re best at, after all, fiddling around with your new club and making it all pretty, ready for the punters—and leave the rest of it alone?’ she asked. ‘Why did you have to get involved?’

‘Because there’s such a thing as loyalty,’ said Annie. She felt stronger now, and angrier too. ‘There’s such a thing as standing up for your friends and fighting their corner. And you know, the very fact that I had to fight Chris Brown’s corner when you were so reluctant to do it—that should have made me see the light much sooner.’

Redmond half smiled and put his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked perfectly relaxed, very much in control.

‘And what light would that be, Mrs Carter?’ he asked her.

‘I should have seen that you were involved right from the start,’ said Annie. ‘Fuck it, you were even there the morning after Aretha got killed; you were right there at the hotel. The cops told me that the one who’s committed the crime, the one who’s killed, often feels an uncontrollable urge to revisit the scene.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Redmond.

‘And, there you were, meeting Constantine, at that hotel the very next day. And you suggested that